


Darkness Within

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Series: Wolves and Darkness [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, The Author Regrets Nothing, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4587405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to Family, Duty, Honour. WInter is coming, and with it, so too is darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragon's Wrath

**10 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**High King Aegon VI Targaryen**

Aegon was convinced he had done the right thing by giving his uncle the horn. He had to be, otherwise it would all have been for nothing. The lies, the fighting, the intrigue, all of it depended on his visions being right. If they were wrong, well then he had doomed the realms to the poison that was his uncle and that was not something he wanted to have on his conscious. There was already much and more blood on his conscious truth be told, the lies he was telling his wife was something that pained him. Arianne, he cared for her, he did, and yet there was much and more that ate away at him, and there was something there, he thought she might suspect him, and the two faced lies he told, but that might not be. Who knows what goes inside that woman’s head, for he surely does not.

Shaking his head to drive such thoughts out of his mind he turns to Ser Arthur, his ever faithful companion and says. “All is well within the city tonight Ser?”

The Sword of the Morning nods. “Yes Your Grace. It seems that the city watch has finally learned to keep control over itself and the new found order is slowly settling in.”

“Good.” He replies, and then sighing he says. “It is a shame that it will not last forever. Perhaps if things were different I could right the wrongs that my father and grandfather placed on the people. But alas, destiny has decided for me what my fate is to be, and I cannot allow that to change.”

“You could fight it Your Grace.” The knight says. “Nothing is ever set in stone until we make it so. Do you want to die?”

Aegon laughs then, a bitter sound. “No man wants to die Ser. Any who claim differently are fools and liars. But I know what my choice must be. I made it when I gave Stark the horn, and as such I will not go back on my word now.”

“Why did you give Stark the horn? It is not clear that the horn truly works, for all we know it could do something else and then you might well be needed Your Grace.” The knight says.

Aegon knows what the man is doing, and he loves him for it, and yet he knows that he cannot be swayed from this, he must not allow himself to be swayed. “What is done is done Ser Arthur. There is no need to question it. I did what I thought needed to be done, to ensure that the realm is secure, and that the world is safe. I cannot leave the kingdoms in Viserys hands, you know what he is.”

“And yet, what is there to say you would leave it in his hands Your Grace?” the sword of the morning asks. “There is nothing apart from some dusty old tome written centuries before any of us were a thought in the clouds let alone born. Surely you believe that one can make their own destinies.”

Aegon looks at the knight and sighs once more. “I wish that were true old friend, but there is much and more that is out of our control. I do not want to stop the tides as they come, for doing so would bring destruction, just as it did when my father took my mother. We both know the Starks have the power to hold the realm, far better than my family does. Our time came and went, my ancestor King Aegon knew that when he entered the fires of Summerhall. Some called it madness, and others called it sanity, all I know is that whatever he did, it was the right thing to do.”

The sword of the morning tries another tact. “What of your child Your Grace? Would you leave her for dead, simply to fulfil a prophecy?”

“There is no child Arthur. Arianne might be carrying, or she might well be dead in the womb, I do not know. Regardless, my line ends with me. Daenerys is fighting her own losing battle, and soon enough we shall all be ended. Viserys in charge of the kingdoms is a terrifying thought.” Aegon replies.

The knight sighs. “I suppose there is no point trying to stop you from going about this course of action, even if I do disapprove of it Your Grace. I am and always have been your man, and I will do what needs to be done, to ensure that your will is seen to. But pray tell me, when this all done and dusted, what of my oath to you? What becomes of that?”

“Fight for Stark, do not resist. Your family knows the ancient tales, do not resist them. Embrace them and ensure that Oswell does as well. They are the future, just as they were the past when my family was young to this world. Ensure that others follow them as well, otherwise only despair will come from resisting them.” Aegon replies.

“Was it wise giving Stark the horn? You saw just as I did the darkness that was within him, how he looked as if he ached for the horn and the power it would give him. Is that such a good thing? To look and know that you have given a man the tool to destroy the world?” the knight asks.

Aegon sighs then. “Destroy it? Or create it anew? Eddard Stark is no fool, nor are his sons. There will come a time when it will become apparent why I do as I do. For now though, you may retire, and should Viserys come this way allow him to enter. I will not cower behind white shields when my death comes for me, as it surely will.”

The knight bows. “Of course Your Grace.” With that he stands and begins walking out of the room to stand guard outside. He pauses before opening the door, turning toward Aegon he says. “Your father would be very proud of you.” Aegon nods and the knight opens the door and walks out.

Aegon sits there alone, his mind wandering, there is so much more that he wants to do, and so very little time to do it in. He has always wanted to be a father, and yet he knows he will never live to see his child born. There is one thing he has not told Arthur, or Oswell, and it is that, Viserys is not how he would die, his uncle is many things, but he is not a kinslayer. Viserys has done all he can to ensure their family is restored to power, it would make no sense for him to try and kill Aegon, but then again, the man’s mind has not been quite the same. Then there is the secret he has carried for so very long, one he doubts even Stark knows, and that is what haunts him the most, carrying this burden for so very long, it has begun eating away at him, ensuring that he does not sleep at night. His uncle is in the north, and yet Aegon cannot speak with him, cannot tell him just how sorry he is, because to do so, would mean a death in the way he is not supposed to die, and that, well that would be most unfortunate.

The sound of footsteps draws him from his dark and troubled thoughts, he looks up to see a cloaked figure walking toward him, a hood drawn up, though he has never met the figure before him, he suspects he knows. “And you are the phantom of the Red Keep, have you come to greet me? Or to mock me?”

The figure does not speak for a moment, walking closer toward him, before it stops within arm’s reach. Its voice is deep. “Neither, I have come to talk Your Majesty.”

“Talk?” he asks. “Talk about what?”

“About this, about why you are so willing to die.” the voice replies.

Aegon looks at the figure and says. “I do not have to give my reasons to you. You are nothing but a phantom.”

“Ah but I have the power to trouble all those who stand there against my work. And you Sire have the greatest potential for doing such a thing.” The voice replies. “After all, you were never meant to sit the throne. You realise that do you not? The eunuch never wanted you on the throne, he wanted one who bore your name to sit it, and yet what happened to that boy?”

An image of a boy with silver hair and violet eyes flits through his mind. “Dead. I killed the false pretender, I ensured that my line would not be supplemented by theirs.”

“And where has the eunuch gone since then? Do you know?” the voice asks.

“He is rotting within the deepest and darkest hell. Where the dragons don’t even wish to go.” Aegon replies confidently.

“Ah, but you see, that is where your arrogance has come to haunt you. The man was never there, he escaped long before your uncle came to speak with you about the horn.” The voice replies.

“What? How could you know that?” Aegon asks sounding shocked. “Varys has been locked within a cell for some time now.”

“I know because I saw him escape, one could argue I even helped him to escape. Chaos is much more fun when such a thing is being done to allow things to happen. And yet should you meet my demand I would have the man killed, so that he could not trouble you anymore.” The figure replies.

“And what is your demand?” Aegon asks, though he suspects he knows what it will be.

“You claim to know when you will die, and who will do it. I want to know how you, you who never knew of the true magics could know. How could you know so much about this when so many others have floundered when looking for the truth?” the voice asks.

Aegon smirks then. “So you do not know everything you claim to? A surprise for one known as the phantom, that one’s knowledge on such a subject such as this is so lacking. I would have thought you would be basking in its glow?”

“I know more things than you can dream of boy.” The voice replies curtly. “But I want to know how you know about this. It is not every day that someone goes actively seeking out their death, let alone a king.”

“I am not your average person.” Aegon replies the smirk still on his face. “But I wanted to know, so that when the time came, I would be ready to face it. I could look whoever was my assailant in the eye and know that I would not balk from doing what needed to be done. I am not my father.”

“And it is that which has driven you for so very long now is it not my king?” the figure enquires. “The desire to be unlike your father, to marry your cousin, who is not your cousin. Doing all you can to ensure that your father’s mistakes and slights towards the Martells are rectified, all the while, knowing deep down that you are actually making the same mistakes he made. The Starks are still getting the same preferential treatment from you that they got from him. It is that which will be your downfall.”

This confuses Aegon. “What do you mean? My downfall has not yet begun, my uncle has not done anything to ascertain where I might yet go.”

“And there we have it. You think you are beyond the same faults your father was, but in truth you are not. You are merely another pawn in this great game.” the figure replies, drawing forth a sharp object from its robes.

Aegon sees this and then replies. “So you are the one who has come to do the deed?”

The man merely says. “For my sister I would do anything. I will not let you insult her memory again, traitor.” And with that Aegon feels the cold press of steel into his throat before blood spills and darkness engulfs him. The quickness of the man’s movements makes him think of a viper.


	2. Lonesome

**10 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Ser Arthur Dayne**

The king was dead, Arthur had stood outside his rooms as the king had been killed, per the king’s orders. That thought haunted him no end. The boy he had helped raise was dead, gone, buried. It was something that would never leave him, not for as long as he lived. He had failed the boy’s father and mother, and now, well now he had failed Aegon as well. Gods it was eating away at him, and with the Queen looking as if she was due anytime, the whole of the Red Keep, and the kingdoms were on alert, waiting, just waiting to see what would happen. Aerys himself was keeping a firm eye on Prince Viserys, gods only knew what that prince would plan.

As Arthur listens to the High Septon recite the vows over the king’s still corpse, Arthur chances a look at the Queen and her family. The Martells look far too calm for this to be true. The Queen herself is remarkably composed, though her hands rest on her waist. Something is not right about this, but what it is he does not know. He thought it would be Viserys who saw to the King, and yet, if his sources are correct it was the shadow who stalks the Red Keep. He is not made for these intrigues, truly he is not. Still he can ensure that he does not break from the truth. Once the High Septon finishes, Arthur and his sworn brothers walk to the pyre and lay their swords at its edge, and then as the fire is lit, they pull their swords back, and King Aegon turns into dust.

Arthur finds himself staring at the flames as they come rising out of the pyre, and soon he finds his thoughts turning to all that has happened. It seems such a waste, it truly does. And yet he cannot find it within him to linger overly long, turning to Oswell he speaks. “Did you see the Martells?”

His sworn brother nods. “I did. They left just after the flames began to appear, the Queen as well. Gods know that they would not remain to mourn.”

“It seems strange that even the Queen has become as cold as she has,” Arthur states. “Considering how close she and the king appeared in Sunspear. Then again, they were not close following the taking of King’s Landing.”

“It could well have been an act brother.” Oswell states. “You know what the Queen is like, she will bat her eyelids at anyone with a pretty face, and I do believe that that was what the King was to her.”

“Then she is a great fool. A greater one than Oberyn and Doran. And they are not great fools. Well Doran is not. Oberyn, him I think the years have not dimmed his mad rages. There is something about him that might well be part of the reason the king is dead.” Arthur says.

“You think they would openly do something such as this?” Oswell asks nodding to the pyre. “They gave no indication that they knew beforehand. It would be a far stretch would it not to assume that they know?”

Arthur considers this for a moment and then says. “I do not know Oswell. But there is something else at play here. And I do believe it is far darker than anything we know. There are things I am certain the king kept from us. Things that he never wanted us to know.”

“So he was more like his father than he would care to admit then,” Oswell says sarcastically. “A shame that. I quite liked the King. His mother was a fiery one as well. Still at least that damned horn is no longer here. It was beginning to unnerve me.”

Arthur looks at his sworn brother and smirks. “I was not aware that anything could scare you Oswell? I thought you were impervious to everything and everyone.”

“Oh do leave off Arthur. You know, sometimes I wonder if perhaps Gerold’s company might be better. Or if not his, then at least Rolland’s but then again what do I know. I am merely a knight with bat horns.” Oswell jokes.

Arthur grins then. “Well you know, you always were better at joking than fighting. I think I have not been beaten by you since, what, it must have been Lys?”

His sworn brother looks at him a moment and then his tone is serious. “Lys. Gods that was so long ago, I nearly forgot it.”

“Forgot what?” Arthur enquires.

“When we were in Lys, do you remember we saw that witch who told Connington about his fate, and he would never speak of it? He would only say that we would be successful?” Oswell asks.

“Yes, I do. I never really knew how he could be so sure given the nature of our mission.” Arthur says.

Oswell nods somewhere off in the crowd. “Well you see that woman there?”

“Yes.” Arthur replies.

“Well I swear on the seven that that is the woman who Arthur went to see.” Oswell says.

Arthur looks at the spot where Oswell is pointing, and there he sees a woman with black hair and dark eyes staring at him intently. Arthur feels a chill go down his spine then as memories come tumbling into his brain. “We have to get to the prince and princess.” He says at once.

“What? Why?” Oswell asks alarmed.

“Because something is about to happen and I do not know what.” Arthur says, his hand going to Dawn’s hilt.

He pushes through the crowd of people, and makes his way to his fellow sworn brothers who are standing behind the prince and princess. “Your Graces,” Arthur says. “We must leave.”

Prince Viserys looks at him then and asks. “Why?”

“Because there is a threat here in the Sept, and we need to move right away.” Arthur says urgently.

“Threat?” the prince asks. “What threat? I see no threat.”

Before Arthur can respond, a whirring sound echoes throughout the chamber and then a twang sounds, Arthur turns to see one of his sworn brothers fall down an arrow sticking out of his chest. “We must go Your Graces. Oswell, Rolland take their graces and go.” Arthur says, drawing his sword, moving into the gathering crowd as more and more arrows begin reigning down. The panicked crowd pushes him this way and that, he swears he sees the woman again, a smile on her lips before he feels a dagger press into this arm, forcing him to drop his sword, he turns and there wearing a viper’s mask is his doom.

* * *

 

**Winterfell**

**King Eddard I Stark**

He looked at the letter before him and sighed. That he could do so was an achievement in of itself. Ned knew that blowing the horn would bring about all kinds of changes but he did not know that this would be one of the changes that it would bring. The coldness, and the growing lack of emotions that became evermore present as winter began to settle. Ned had always loved winter, but what he felt for it now, well it went beyond love, and it was somewhat worrying, at least for Ned. Cat seemed to be fully enjoying it, and because she looked so beautiful he enjoyed it along with her.

Still there was one thing he needed to do that was holding him back from fully enjoying anything, and that was this, his daughter Sansa was sat in front of him, and he knew that things would be difficult, but this difficult? Gods he had no thought for that. Taking a deep breath he says. “Your mother tells me you know about the truth Sansa.”

His daughter, looking every inch like her mother nods. “I do father.”

“And what do you make of it?” he asks, he dreads the answer, but needs to know anyway.

“I believe you made a difficult decision, and that you have been thinking over it ever since you made it. I am somewhat sad that I never got to know Lyarra, but at the same time I am very grateful for the life I have.” His daughter replies.

Ned is somewhat surprised by her response. “You do not feel anger?”

“I feel anger about many things father. You took me to King’s Landing and then did not speak with me. You never explained why we had to leave, there was so much going on and yet there was no time for the two of us. I am angry that you took me there despite the fact you knew what had happened to Lyarra. I am angry that you never once tried to explain why Arya was preferred to me, and I did some very stupid things. But I am not angry about this, I could never be.” his daughter replies.

Ned is surprised by the level of maturity his daughter is showing, she truly has grown up, and he was not there to see it. Once again, sadness begins to engulf him at that thought. “I am sorry for that Sansa. More sorry than you will ever know. I desperately did not want to take you south but once the betrothal was made I could not unmake it. And there were things that needed to be done to ensure what we have now could come into place. If I could change it I would, by the gods I would. But I am so, very sorry.” His daughter has taken his hand then and he is surprised to find that it is shaking. “I never wanted for you to get hurt. And I promise you that you will never be hurt again. Never.”

His daughter looks at him sceptically then. “Truly? With what is to come, you think that might still happen? That I can find happiness?”

Ned looks at his daughter, truly looks at her and says. “You will find happiness Sansa. I know you will. I will not let him take you. He might claim anything else he wants, but not you. You will have a choice my sweetling.”

“Do you think you can truly stand against him though? If what mother says is true, then there is something else going on here. There has been no word from Uncle Benjen for more than a year now, and strange things keep being seen at the wall. The changes within all of us as well, do you think we can stand against him?” his daughter asks.

He can hear the fear creeping into her voice, and so he pulls their linked hands and puts them against his chest. “I promise you we can. We have two horns now my sweet, and we shall be able to do this. Our ancestors stood against him last time. I will not allow anything different to happen this time around.”

“I could not bear to leave you father.” His daughter says. And before he knows it she has flung herself into his arms, her head resting against his chest. “In King’s Landing I was so scared, so very scared. They said all kinds of things about you, and about Robb. I did not want to believe any of them. I just wanted to come home. All I ever wanted was to come home.”

Ned feels his heart break at his daughter’s words. “You are home sweetling, you are home now. Everything will be okay. I will never let anyone take you away from us again. I promise. I promise.” He whispers into her hair.

His daughter looks at him her eyes wet with tears. “Promise?” she asks, just as she did when she was little.

His heart wrenches then. _Promise me Ned._ He swallows. “I promise sweetling. No one will make you leave Winterfell ever again.”

His daughter puts her head back to his chest, and they sit like that for a long while, until he is quite convinced his daughter has fallen asleep. She surprises him then by saying. “I must go now father. Otherwise, Arya will be quite concerned.”

He looks at her amused. “Oh? And why is that?”

“And why ever might that be?” he asks a lightness to his tone.

“I said I would help her with something father. I can’t tell you though it’s a secret.” His daughter says.

Ned laughs then and loosens his grip on his daughter allowing her to step down onto the floor. “Alright then, on your way my princess. I shall see you at dinner.” His daughter kisses his cheek then and turns and walks on. Ned sits there in silence for a long time, considering all the various things he could do to prevent that mad man from getting anything over his family, and all he can think of is more war. He does not want more war, not with his destiny coming, all of their destinies coming soon.


	3. Rise and Fall

****

**11 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Prince Viserys Targaryen**

He can hear the screams, the woman’s screams, it is the pain of it all. Viserys can still feel where the arrow nearly ran past him. He wanted to find whoever was responsible and have them killed. Of course he and Dany are safe, that is the main thing, and the Queen is safe as well, but as always there is something not quite right about it all. Viserys is not sure what it is, but he knows that whatever it is, it will come back to haunt them and not in a good way. He looks at his sister, and then at Ser Oswell, the knight had ensured they had gotten to safety during the chaos at the Great Sept, but Ser Arthur had fallen, and now, well now Viserys wonders at this, he wonders if they are falling into a trap. The screams echo once more, but that is not what is unnerving to him, and so he speaks.

“Do we know who the assassins were?” he asks.

Ser Oswell is silent a moment and then responds. “We know that they came from somewhere within King’s Landing, but we do not know just what their affiliation was.”

“Affiliation.” Viserys muses. “I do not know whether to laugh or cry. We lost many good men during that attack. Whoever, these people are they do not hold anything sacred anymore.”

The Kingsguard knight nods. “Indeed not my prince. But then again I would not expect anything less from curs who would attack during the king’s own funeral.”

Viserys looks at the knight and then asks. “Do you think that the Martells had something to do with this then?”

The knight looks at him and sighs. “I do not know my prince, but what I do know is that they were gone from the sept quicker than anyone else. And furthermore, King Aegon was last seen speaking to someone of a Dornish accent.”

Viserys runs a hand through his hair. “Why would they do that? It makes no sense. After all, the king was half Dornish. This was surely part of their plan to get revenge. Surely it should have allowed them a chance to get some leeway.”

Ser Oswell shrugs his shoulders. “I do not know, but Arthur did believe that there was something going on between the king and queen. Relations were far too tense for them to make sense.”

Viserys considers this for a moment and then responds. “I do think that the Queen has seemed far too easy going, considering the loss she has suffered. If she and my nephew were as close as she would have us believe, she would not be thinking of seeking another marriage. And yet she is. Aegon said something to me before his coronation, something about knowing when his death would come.”

The knight looks at him intrigued. “And what did he say specifically?”

“He said that he knew my heart’s desire and he would not stand in the way of allowing me to achieve it. I told him, that he did not know what my heart’s desire was, and that he should stop talking nonsense.” Viserys responds.

Daenerys speaks for the first time then, her voice shaking somewhat. “Aegon was always troubled by these visions Viserys, you know that. He could not help but worry for the family. Jon died, and we had to face so much after that, and then there was that night following his coronation.”

Viserys looks at his sister and then says. “But that was just the one-time event. Surely something like that could not have influenced something as grand as that?”

Daenerys shakes her head. “I do not know. He was quite troubled by the visions he saw. All that ice and fire, was something that could not be good for him. And then there is the viper of the Red Keep, that person, whoever they are, they are stalking the shadows and making things harder for all of us.”

Viserys looks at Ser Oswell then and asks. “And has the spider spoken yet?”

The knight takes a moment to speak and then he says. “He talks in riddles, his mind is addled. He speaks of things that do not make sense, and he speaks of Prince Rhaegar as if he were still alive.”

Viserys sighs then. “I do not know what to make of all of this. By the terms of Aegon’s will, should his wife give birth to a boy, I am to be regent. But we can be certain that the Martells will oppose that with everything they have. They have not been happy with anything since the boy took the throne.”

“The Martells have always craved power, regardless of what others might say. It is the way of things I think, for the sun to crave the warmth that dragons give it. But then again, if we are correct in our assumptions then we might well need to do something about it, my prince.” Ser Oswell says.

Viserys nods and then merely says. “I want men stationed near their quarters, and I want to make sure that nothing they say or do reaches anyone else’s ears. Furthermore, I think the time has come to call the kings of the various kingdoms to King’s Landing. I think the time has come to sort out the relations of the throne and these kingdoms.”

“What do you intend to do about that my prince?” Oswell asks.

Viserys runs a hand through his hair and then says. “I do think that we must renegotiate the terms of the treaty that was agreed upon, a High King has limited power unless the armies are with him. We must make sure that they know who it is giving them their power.”

Before Ser Oswell can respond, the door to Queen Arianne’s birthing chamber opens and the maester walks out. His face is grim, but then he says. “The babe was stillborn. The Queen is dead.” A moment’s silence and then the grandmaester bows and says. “Long live the king.”

* * *

 

**Casterly Rock**

**King Damion Lannister**

Winter was setting in, and Damion knew he did not have long to live. Things were growing to close toward the end as it were. There was resistance within the Westerlands to his rule, and there were factions forming within the family. Factions who wanted him gone and the throne to be theirs. Then there were other things that needed to be considered, breaking the hold Winterfell had over them was the main thing Damion was considering, he needed to ensure that that was done before anything else, which was why he held this meeting now.

“We know that Winterfell has become more and more silent since the time of King Aegon’s death. We must ensure that with this being the case, we make the changes necessary to ending their hold over us.” Damion says.

A moment’s silence and then his son Lucion says. “And how are we to do that? They have their spies within Casterly Rock, working for Stark, and reporting to him at every moment. We must ensure that they are dead first.”

“And that is the case for some, but not all of the spies here. Feed some false information and send others towards their deaths. I know that that might not be the most appealing course of action for some here, but we must ensure that Winterfell does not suspect us until they are too late.” Damion responds.

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” his son asks.

Damion looks at his son then and says. “Stark made many enemies during his campaign here, and as such, they might think that I am his puppet, in some cases I might be, but in others I am not. For you see, I have my own allies here, and we all know something about Stark that he does not want people to know.”

“And what is this thing that you know about him, that he does not want anyone else to know?” his son asks.

“Stark had a daughter named Lyarra, she was a babe when this all happened. But she was given in tribute, or rather taken as such. To ensure Stark did not do anything that would break him from the throne. And as such, he gave this child up, and she was given for death. In return, his second daughter Sansa would remain alive and well, until Tywin decided to come calling. This secret is what led to the betrothal and the war. But, Stark allowed this to happen, for his greater purpose.” Damion responds.

“And what was this greater purpose?” his son asks.

Damion looks at his son and smiles. “Stark might have been raised in the Eyrie, but he was always the more Stark of Rickard Stark’s sons. It took a war and the loss of his sister for that to come about though. And well, Stark knows the value of the innocent. And he knows the value of blood, especially that of the innocent. And well, let us just say that should such a thing become common knowledge Stark will not have a leg to stand on.”

There is a moment’s silence and then Maester Creylen speaks. “Sire, I would advise some caution on this matter. Considering Stark still has some informants within the Westerlands, could bring a lot of harsh recriminations against you. And considering the state of affairs now, is that really a wise thing?”

Damion looks at the maester and responds. “Tywin and his siblings and their issue are all dead. That was the price of my agreement for all of this. They are no threat to me, and though there might well be others who are looking at this and questioning my choice, I do believe it is the right thing to do. We must break off from dependency on the Starks, and move forward.”

His son speaks then. “And what of those within the Rock itself? We have many cousins who would wish to see you fall father. We must act to prevent them from acting must we not?”

Damion nods. “Indeed we must, but we must also ensure that we do not destroy too much of our family. For doing that would only harm us more than it could ever benefit us. And we must play the dangerous game.”

“And what game is this father?” Lucion asks.

“The Reach is in chaos, the southern Westerlands is facing constant war, we must play both sides. It is time we brought more force, and showed the rest of the realms that we are still strong. We must move forward and act accordingly, and ensure that none of these fools act against us.” Damion says.

“Do we have the funds for such a thing though?” Lucion asks. “After all, the Starks did take a lot of our reserves as war reparations.”

Damion sighs. “He took what I was willing to show him, he did not take all of our reserves, nor did he take the reserves of our reserves. He took that which we allowed, and as such he might not know it, but it is contaminated.”

“Contaminated how?” Lucion asks.

“There is a poison in it, there always has been, from the time of Tyrion the Tormentor, when he thought that the lords of his realm were trying to go against him. And so he poisoned parts of the gold, to make it so that any who touched it would suffer. Stark has most definitely touched it and he is suffering.” Damion responds.

His son nods and then raises his cup. “To you then. The King of the Westerlands.”

“And to you, the Prince of Lannisport.” Damion responds, taking a deep sip of the wine.

The moment his lips touch the cup and the wine goes in, he knows that something is wrong. He feels his vision go blurry, he drops the cup as his mind goes blank, his limbs go numb, and he slumps down. His mouth is frothing, something is happening here. His vision is going blurry. As he slumps down and falls out of his chair, he hears laughter, a cackling sound.  As he looks up, through blurred eyes he sees the stranger standing there.


	4. Two Crowns

**12 th Month of 299 A.C. Riverrun**

**King Axel I Tully**

Winter was coming, Axel could feel it in his bones, could feel it in the air. The chill of winter, a long one was there, waiting to be welcomed. That made him anxious he did not know whether this winter would be a good one or not. There was far too much that needed to be done before winter came, and as he thought about it, Axel was convinced something was going to happen. The realms had barely recovered from the war with the Lannisters, and now Aegon Targaryen, the High King was dead, his wife and child were dead, and now his uncle Viserys was High King, had ascended the throne a moon ago. Axel had sensed a changed atmosphere in King’s Landing, and that was part of what was worrying, part of what had made him call a meeting of some of his most trusted lords. He looked at them all and then spoke.

“Viserys Targaryen means to bring the realms under his control once more. I saw it for myself, he is discussing war and tactics and no doubt is planning an invasion soon enough.” Axel says.

“Does he have the strength to do that?” Lord Tytos asks. “The Lannisters used up much and more of the strength of the crownlords did they not?”

Axel shakes his head. “It would appear that we underestimated the strength of the crownlords. They are rallying to the man’s summons, are present in some of his war councils. He means to break the peace his nephew signed and wage war.”

“Surely he knows that he cannot unite the kingdoms? After all we now all have some form of independence to try and curb that, as he would want to do would end in his death.” Lord Vance says.

Axel looks at the man and responds. “Viserys Targaryen is not a man who denies his wants. He took the throne before his nephew’s wife and her child were cold. He took the throne and ordered a summons. He is planning for a war, and I think there are those within the Riverlands who might well wish to fight for him.”

There is a long silence following this and then Blackwood speaks. “Surely Her Grace’s family would know they are more likely to suffer under Viserys Targaryen than prosper?”

Axel shakes his head, thinking of the conversation he had had with his wife. “It seems that there are some loyalties that do not die. Even when it would be in the people’s best interests that they die. My wife’s family is one such family that, that holds true to. We must consider the options before us.”

“Does that mean there will be war?” Lord Mallister asks.

Axel nods. “It would seem so. Viserys is determined to reconquer the realms that once belonged to his ancestors. And as such he will not stop at anything short of full conquest.”

“What of the Westerlands? Damion Lannister is dead, and his son has been making all the signs as if he means to invade us. What are we to do there?” Lord Vance asks.

Axel considers this question and then responds. “No doubt the man is doing that on Viserys orders. I have always had the feeling that Lucion Lannister was more akin to a snake than a lion. What word have your men been able to gather?”

Lord Vance looks at him somewhat worriedly. “It seems he is amassing a large force, larger than that which the treaty his father signed with King Eddard would allow for. And as such this force will be mustering somewhat close to the border.”

“How large a force could it truly be?” Lord Tytos asks. “After all, the Westerlands were decimated during the war before. They cannot have that many men left to call upon.”

“It seems there are men enough for them to muster an army. But it would seem that they are more peasants than true fighters. And it would seem as though the city watch of Lannisport is mustering as well. Lucion Lannister truly means to make a move.” Lord Vance says.

“Why would he do that though?” Axel’s old friend Walder asks. “Why do something that is bound to weaken him in the long term?”

Axel considers this and then says. “Because this is meant to be a distraction. No doubt Lannister is meant to raise us away from looking south, and then when the time comes Viserys will march in and raise support from those lords closer to the border with King’s Landing and the crownlands.”

“What of the Vale Your Grace?” Lord Blackwood asks.

“What of the Vale?” Axel asks in response.

“The boy sitting the falcon throne has made clear that he does not wish for an alliance with us. And it seems he too is preparing for an invasion.” Blackwood responds.

Axel curses then, he had forgotten about Artys Arryn the boy king of the Vale who was not a boy. It angered him somewhat that Elbert’s son should so blatantly disregard the treaty they had signed. But then again, Elbert had never been one for politics and regarding treaties with anything other than pure apathy. Sighing, he closes his eyes for a moment and then looks at Tytos the man looking at him expectantly. “How many men can you raise?”

Blackwood considers this question and then responds. “Some three hundred men of proper training my king.”

“You are willing to work with Bracken?” Axel queries.

Blackwood’s face scrunches up into distaste then, but he still responds. “If it means protecting my lands against another foreign invader then yes, I am.”

“Good, I want you to raise your men and work together. Patrol the borders, and if you see anything suspicious, report it back to me. I do not want this to go past anything that it must be. We must avoid war with the Vale as much as possible.” Axel responds.

\--------

**The Eyrie**

**King Artys II Arryn**

War, he hungered for it, desperate for revenge, for a chance to show the kingdoms that he was the true heir to his namesake. His brother had been weak, Ronnel had been more willing to accept peace than to keep fighting to continue the war, to keep their father’s ambitions going. Ronnel who had died from a wound during one of the final battles against the Lannisters. Betrayed by the Tullys and the Starks. Artys was angry with them, he would see them fall if it meant that he had to kill them all himself, he would do it. Gods he was angry, and he wanted revenge, and the offer from Viserys Targaryen was a tempting one. He had called a meeting with his trusted advisors to discuss this offer and more, and found himself looking at them all.

“The offer the Targaryen sends is one worthy of consideration. His sister in return for support against Tully and Stark.” Artys says.

“Yes, Your Grace. And yet it would require that you bend the knee. Are you willing to bend to a Targaryen again?” Lord Melcolm asks.

Artys looks at the man and feels anger grow inside of him. “The offer has been made, that does not mean that one has to completely bend the knee. Raiding the Riverlands, we can make sure our army avoids the Targaryen army for a period of time, whilst revenge is sought.”

“Are you sure that is wise Your Grace? It would seem evasive would it not?” Lord Nestor Royce asks.

Artys looks at the man, his cousin Lord Yohn had remained shut up in Runestone ailing allegedly, though Artys doubts that very much. Still Nestor Royce had been a loyal advisor so far. “I do not care if it is evasive, I shall have the revenge I seek. Let the Riverlands burn, and let Viserys Targaryen complain all he wants. He will never have my oath of allegiance.”

 “It seems Targaryen has also reached out to the Lannisters, Your Grace.” Lord Melcolm says. “It would appear that Lucion Lannister has designs on conquering the western part of the riverlands.”

“He is welcome to it, I want only the eastern coast of the Riverlands, that which by Andal law is my right. The time will come when the Tullys must do me fealty, and should things work with the Targaryen, I shall have all of Andalos again.” Artys responds. He looks at Lord Royce then and asks. “When did the dragon say the marriage would take place?”

“When the Starks and Tullys are dead Your Grace. Prove your loyalty to him and you would guarantee the marriage.” Royce responds.

Artys considers this. “And what do our men within the capital say? Have they begun making the appropriate plans for this?”

“They are making steady progress Your Grace. Soon enough they will be ready to make the moves that you require of them. And they shall take the princess from Viserys’ grasp and make her yours.” Nestor responds.

“Good.” Artys responds. “It is time that the dragon was showed just how old he is, and how he is not welcome here. Now tell me, what word has there been from Dorne and the Reach? Are they going to support the Targaryen boy?”

Lord Nestor looks at the letters before him and then responds. “It would seem that Dorne has decided to retreat into obscurity, the Dornish at court have been dismissed. Doran Martell it seems has offered some oath of fealty and nothing more. I think Dorne might well be reaching its own independence movement. As for the Reach, Willas Tyrell remains silent as ever on these matters, though there are rumours that there is unrest within certain parts of the Reach.”

“Very well, keep me informed on any developments as they come. You are all dismissed.” Artys says. The lords rise and bow and then depart, leaving Artys to his own thoughts. They are not pleasant, not in the least, the sound of his brother’s dying screams, the pain in his brother’s eyes, all of that pain. Artys grips the cup before him, anger flowing through him. He does not want to go to war, but he does, it is a confusing thing for him. He is not sure what he wants more, to wage war, or to merely remain silent and patient. The door opens and the maester walks in. Artys stares at the man and then says. “What is it?”

“Word from our friend has come Your Grace. It seems positive.” the maester responds.

“What does he say?” Artys asks.

“It would appear that there is dissent within King’s Landing. There are some nobles scared of the snake of King’s Landing, they fear for the King’s safety and are wondering whether or not he should march out on campaign, or whether he should marry before leaving for war.” the maester responds.

“Who are they suggesting he marry?” Artys asks intrigued now.

“His sister Your Grace. They are suggesting a continuation of the old way, and as such are determined to bring that into being. The King Dragon it seems is considering this as well, it seems he is not as serious about the alliance he has proposed as first thought.” the maester responds.

“It would seem he has given us the way out of anything to do with him.” Artys responds happily. “Does our friend say when this thing might be confirmed?”

“Within two to three days I believe Your Grace. Our friend says he shall write when it has been confirmed.” the maester says.

“Good, you may leave now.” Artys responds.

He looks at the map of Westeros before him, and looks at the riverlands, he laughs then. Soon enough he shall have his revenge, Ronnel shall be avenged and the riverlands shall know his wrath. They were betrayed and he shall make them see what it means to be hurt. He does not care what anyone else says, he will have blood, Stark and Tully blood. He shall have it, and he will drink it and savour it.

 


	5. Two Deaths

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. Somewhere in the Riverlands**

**King Lucion Lannister**

The invasion had begun, High King Viserys had promised him the chance to reap rewards for invading the riverlands, and though there were some within the West who doubted the sanity of invading the riverlands with their rather diminished numbers, Lucion knew that now was the only chance they would have. Stark was busy in the north doing something or the other, and Artys Arryn despised the Riverlanders, now was  the time to take back what was stolen and to reclaim that which had been lost by greedy Tywin Lannister.

Winter had not yet come, and so they were able to march through the passes somewhat unhindered, his heart was hammering within his chest. The secret of his father’s death weighed heavily on him, the manner in which the old man had died that is, he had never doubted that his father had to die. His father who was more than willing to bow and scrape to the wolves and savages. His father had not seen how demeaning that was to them, and so he had removed him. But he was not all that happy with the manner in which he had removed his father, he knew the dangers of making it too apparent. There were many things that needed to be considered.

The Riverlanders would be facing a two way fight, from the west and the east, gods there was something so very appealing about that. Making them bleed, the same way they had destroyed what Lucion had known of his old life, the thing he had known and sought for most of his adult life. The peace and stability of home, they had taken that, and he would take it back from them, whether or not he lasted through it all, he did not know, nor did he really care. All he wanted to do right now was fight and win. He could see the enemy in the distance, and unsheathing his sword he bellows a command and the charge begins.

His heart hammers the closer they come toward the enemy, he has dispensed with lances, knowing how cumbersome they can be. He has decided to fight with his sword and only his sword throughout this battle. They crash into lances and foes, and he knows then that he has made a mistake, the slicing and dicing of it all, it unnerves him, it shatters through him, he does not know whether or not he has made the right decision, he honestly cannot say whether he cares about this thing or not, the ever encroaching feeling of death.

Pain comes before him then, and it breaks itself upon his shoulders ending what might well have been a right way to move, or the darkness creeping in. He does not much know nor care, as he falls from his horse, the blackness engulfs him and it ends with a shrieking pain in his ears, the blood falls from him and he knows that this is it. He has failed.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Stormlands**

**King Viserys III Targaryen**

High King, the title rankled him, he was the only king, not some damned High King. There would be only one king when he was done with this, he would make these fools realise their mistake. He would make his family great once more, he would show them all where their mistakes where, and he would bring in a new age. He had destroyed what resistance there was to him within King’s Landing and he was going to move onto the other kingdoms. The Stormlands where in chaos, had been in chaos since the war of the five kings had ended and now, well now they were the perfect breeding ground for what he was going to try. He laughs then and watches the army marching.

The Stormlords seem to be breaking apart rather slowly, it is something that both amuses and infuriates him. He wants a fight, he wants a challenge, he wants to do something, to make some sort of impression on those who say he is merely taking advantage of the work his nephew did. Aegon, the boy who made something of himself before dying, he knows there are some who think he did it, but that could not be further from the truth. There was no reason for him to have his nephew killed, not when he had sabotaged the girl’s pregnancy and he was determined to ensure that there was more time to explain himself. Of course, he did not mean to these fools, for the dragon did not care about sheep.

He knew there would be time to ensure everything when he was done, but for now the battle was his main concern. Straightening his lance he barks commands, and then the charge begins. He leads from the front, as his brother did, as his nephew did, and his heart begins speeding up as the charge quickens. He crashes into the head of the Stormlords host and his lance gets its work done from the off, swinging and thrusting through the crowd, men fall down, and soon enough his own lance falls down broken. Viserys picks himself up, and draws his sword, and begins swinging, he swings and swings, watching as men fall down to the ground, he slashes and hacks, knowing that there is something going on within the wider scope of things.

The Starks, they have always been a thorn in his family’s side, and he intends to sort them out when he is done here. He intends to bring them low, if Arryn and Lannister destroy Tully and each other, then he can move onto Stark and make sure they are broken and cowed. He will not allow them to continue fighting through the winter. His sword arm is aching, and he feels as though he might sleep, perhaps that is the best course of action, he wonders then why none have thought of doing this before. He does not see the arrow before it is embedded in his throat. His dreams die with him. 


	6. Winter

**King Artys II Arryn**

The invasion had been planned, and it was time for it take fruit. Artys was determined to have his revenge, he would do it for his father and brother who had been so carelessly abandoned by the Starks and Tullys, left to die. He would finish them and ensure that they were not secure, they would never be secure, not so long as he lived. His determination to see to that was what was motivating him through all of this. There was no time to grieve, there was only time to ensure that revenge was had. He had called his banners and marched and now the time had come.

The feeling of battle is one that he has lived for almost his whole life, like his father, he has known the feeling of fighting, he knew it more than his brother did. Ronnel was far too peaceful, was not strong enough for the burdens of kingship. Artys knows that there is time to make more from this war and force it on the Targaryen king, the king who is weak, and is somewhere fighting and dying in the Stormlands, Artys will have his due as is his right. The pounding of the horse on the ground makes him reawaken from his stupor and he considers doing more to marshal the men, and then things better of it. The fighting had already begun and it was fierce, something definitely fierce.

The rivermen are more prepared than Artys thought they would be, he had been counting on keeping them somewhat off guard, easier to win the battle that way. But it seems that it is not to be. They are fighting with a fierceness that can only make Artys look at them and marvel at their strength, even broken and wounded as they must be, they continue fighting. Artys begrudgingly finds himself admiring for that. His men are fighting as well, but there seems to be a distinct lack of effort in their part, and he does not know why. He swings his sword and cuts down one man, and then another, but the rush of men just keeps coming, he does not know if he can stop it. It turns out he cannot, he is brought down in a rush of blood, gore and arrows.

\----------

**Winterfell**

**Prince Robb Stark**

Power flowed through his veins, the coming of winter was nigh, in fact Robb was sure it had come. He had blown the horn, and he felt the power within him. And to complete the power, the person before him had to be removed. Greyjoy, he had had fun with Greyjoy but now the time had come to allow the boy to meet his maker. Or rather, the hells from which he undoubtedly came from. Robb smiles then, he can feel power within him, so much power, he takes the knife from Jon and advances on Greyjoy.

“You are to be brought before your maker, or the spawn of the one you call a god. Do you deny this?” Robb asks.

Greyjoy looks at him then and merely replies. “I do not.”

“And do you know where you are going to end up afterwards?” he asks.

“I do not.” Greyjoy responds.

“Good.” Robb replies, he looks at his father who merely nods, and then he proceeds to make short work of Greyjoy, the knife thrusts in and out several times, and the blood falls into the cups placed on the ground, when Robb is done, he puts the knife down, and picks up one of the cups. He looks at his father who takes the first sip, and then Robb as his father’s heir takes a sip and says. “We are one now, for the good of winter we arise.”

\------------

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. The Wall**

**King Eddard I Stark**

It was done, they had drunk the blood of someone they knew, and now the power was flowing through them all. Ned, felt his army, his lords, they were all looking at him and at the figure before him. The figure of legend, the figure who had haunted Ned’s dreams for a long time. The figure looked at him, cloaked in blue and white and their voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you know what you must do?”

“I do.” Ned responds.

“Then you know the burden you take. It has been mine for many years, and now I give it to you, the creation of many years of hard work. Let it be done and let it all be known, the truth is there for all to see.” the figure responds.

Ned watches as the figure removes the crown from atop his head, and slowly places it on Ned’s own. Ned feels a heavy burden on his head and he hears the howling of the winds and the figures before him and behind him. He watches as the figure falls down and dies, if it can be called that. He gets up then and turns to look at his men. A rare smile on his face. “We ride for victory and winter.”

\------------

**3rd Month of 300 A.C. Outside King’s Landing**

**Prince Jon Stark**

The riverlands had bent the knee, as had the vale and the Westerlands, all of them were led by women, and now Dorne, well Dorne had done so and the Stormlands, they were engulfed in winter already. The crownlands had broken and bent as well, and now, well now there was only one thing left to do. Jon looks at the city before him, and watches as the people inside scream and fall down, foolish southerners they cannot think they would succeed against the pull of winter. Not against them surely not. And now, well now they are learning their mistake.

The walls fall, and slowly but surely, the snow begins to fall. Jon smiles at this, their winter empire has come to realisation, in time they will hold it all before them, and it shall extend. Of course it will extend, there are none who can stand before the gods of winter now. Jon watches as the city falls, and snow falls on the ground. He laughs, and his brother joins in, these fools have no idea what is coming for them now. Winter has come, and with it, the eternal night.


End file.
